


Along The River Termer

by Perfica



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-06
Updated: 2008-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfica/pseuds/Perfica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for sheafrotherdon’s ’Rodney Is Lovely!’ festival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along The River Termer

"Surely you're not leaving so soon!" Gillal, a town leader and their guide for the day exclaimed. "You'll miss out on all the fun."

"Fun?" Teyla said, head tilted to the side.

"Oh, it's marvelous, simply marvelous," Gillal said. "All the towns gather along the side of the River Termer - rows of tents as far as the eye can see! And in the afternoon, everyone gathers at the _pavilion_."

"The pavilion?" John asked, because someone had to.

"Each town nominates a representative, and then, _then_ the battle of Masters begins!"

"Masters, you say," Rodney said with a gleam in his eye.

"Oh, a battle such as you have never seen. Cunning puzzles of logic designed to twist the sharpest mind. Twisted mathematical problems that make men and women beg for mercy. Torturous questioning over the very foundations of the pure sciences. And then," Gillal continued excitedly, "their second's do battle!"

"So, these second's - are they brains or brawn?" John asked, returning Rodney's look with a gleam in his own eyes.

"I'm not sure what brawn is but the challenges take the specimen to the limit of their physical perfection. They must capture a wily bellar and ties its legs. They must carry the most stones on their back while swimming across the River Termer. They must scale the Pole Of Slipperiness and bring down a basket of plethar sausages. They must run to Dorith, collect the blue wildflowers that grow on its outskirts and be first back to the pavilion."

"I like running," Ronon said, gruffly.

"And you like sausages too," Rodney said with a grin. John opened his mouth to speak but Rodney cut him off with a hand-wave, saying, "Don't even bother, Sheppard. He's half your age, double your weight and and his fists are bigger than your head."

"If he's Brutus, I'm guessing you're Olive Oil?" John replied, narrowing his eyes.

Rodney pulled a face while Teyla grinned broadly. "It sounds wonderful, Gillal. When does the battle begin?"

"Tomorrow. First thing in the morning or as soon as the plethar sausages are put on the top of the Pole Of Slipperiness. It takes a while, as I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, yes, congratulations to lubrication and gravity overcoming humanity again," Rodney said. "So, this Master. What does he or she win?"

Gillal chuckled self-consciously. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing that prosperous people such as yourselves would be interested in. The prize is mostly ceremonial - the winner is crowned the _Grand_ Master."

"Grand Master McKay," Rodney said, humming. "I like the sound of that."

 

~~~

 

"Why so crabby, Peppermint Patty?" John asked as he strolled into the infirmary.

"Shut up," Rodney said from under the blanket he had pulled over his head.

"Ah, baby, don't be like that," John teased, plunking himself down on Rodney's bed and pulling at the blanket. Rodney's stubby fingers stubbornly pulled the other way, but John won by sneakily poking him in the ribs.

Rodney sighed mournfully as the blankets pooled on his chest, his face a riot of pink dots.

John shifted back minutely. "Damn."

"Don't even," Rodney said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't believe it and I don't want to talk about it."

"Do they itch?" John asked, a solitary finger hovering over a splotch of calamine lotion that graced Rodney's cheek.

"Of course they itch," Rodney said, batting away his finger. "Do you think I'd have let them douse me in this stuff if it didn't itch? It itches like a bitch!"

"I'm sure you'll feel better soon," John soothed. "The spots mean the worst has passed."

"What it _means_ ," Rodney said, meanly, "is that I'm stuck here while the local yokels have a battle of wits the likes of which we've never seen in this galaxy and I'm not there to squash them into tiny, tiny pieces of inferior intellect!"

"You know, we really don't take advantage of your diplomatic skills."

Rodney's eyes narrowed, then he squirmed unhappily. "I don't want to be a diplomat, I wanted to be the Grand Master. It would have been a cakewalk, yet here I am; stinking of cream, itching so much I'd happily let my cat walk up and down my body with his claws out and covered in the pox."

"It's not the pox," John said.

"It's chickenpox."

"But not smallpox, so that's a positive."

Rodney huffed and stared at the ceiling. "Grand Master. Grand Master McKay. We finally find a planet that admires intellect and I can't go."

"No, you can't," John said, nodding. "You want something to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Want me to rub your feet?"

"You'd do that?"

"No."

Rodney punched John weakly in the arm while John laughed.

"Scratch my pox marks."

"They'll scar if I do that."

"I don't care," Rodney whined. "Relieve my torment!"

John balanced on an elbow up near Rodney's ear. "Pucker up," he said, conspiratorially.

"What?"

"You heard me," John said. "Put those lips together and - "

"I swear to God, Sheppard, if you say blow... "

"Come on, pucker up."

"Stop saying pucker."

"Rodney... "

"Oh, fine," Rodney said. His grimace smoothed, his down-turned lips softened and turned into a moue.

"That's the way," John whispered, lowering his head and, very carefully avoiding any sore areas, touched their lips together.

"Oh, that's nice," Rodney whispered back, pressing forward.

John kissed him again, small kisses from one side of his mouth to the other, gentle grazes that were dry and almost reverent.

"You're crazy, you know," Rodney said, one of his hands stroking John's nape. "I look disgusting. There's no way I'm turning you on with greasy hair and pink polka-dots."

"I didn't even notice," John said, smiling broadly.

And he was telling the truth.


End file.
